


I've Been Missing You

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, College Student Sam, Depressed Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Other, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three months since Dean sent his brother off to college. Three months since he saw him and three months since he heard his voice. It's been three months too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Been Missing You

It's been three months since Sam went off to college. Three months since John disowned his youngest son. Three months since Dean fell into a dark hole and no matter how hard he tries, he can't get out. Three months.

Dean remembers the day as if it were yesterday. He stayed up with Sammy the night before into the early morning, listening to Sam talk about how excited he was to go to Stanford. That this was his shot, to get out, to get away. Dean had never seen a smile that big on Sam's face, never seen his eyes so bright and yearning for something. He was so happy to be leaving and it broke Dean's heart. Part of Dean wanted him to go, wanted him to get out of this life, see the world, got to school and get a job. He wanted Sam to have a normal life. But the other part of Dean - the selfish part - wanted Sam to stay. 

Dean knew it was selfish but he didn't really care. He'd been going on hunts lately separate from John, alone and it felt wrong. Being separated from John didn't feel wrong, but the fact that Sam wasn't at his side did. The impala felt too open, too cold without Sam's presence. Sometimes he'd blast music to drown out the alien quietness, but whenever he'd reach down to grab a cassette tape from the glove compartment, his eyes would catch the dark green of the army man Sam crammed into the ashtray when he was five. Dean would have to pull over then, it wasn't safe to drive when he couldn't see. 

He'd picked up the phone every day over the past three months, to give Sam a call make sure he's doing okay, that college is treating him well. Dean would even get so far as dialing Sam's number, but then he'd chicken out and throw the phone across the room, replacing it with a cold beer. Dean couldn't call him, it would hurt too much, knowing how happy Sam is, not caring that Dean is drowning.

Dean didn't know what to do so he dealt with grief like he always did, with a bottle of Jack and a few one-night stands. That always helped, at least for awhile.

But the comfort of alcohol and pretty boys and girls can only work for so long before the darkness catches up. Which leads Dean to the situation he is in now. Alone, in a darkened hotel room on Christmas Eve with bottle of whiskey in one hand and his cellphone in the other. Snow falls in sheets outside the dirt-spotted windows and the heater is turned up to the highest knob but Dean still feel cold, despite wearing multiple layers. The amulet Sam gave him hangs against his chest, overly heavy, reminding him of every second he's spent with Sam over the past twenty-two years of his life. Dean wishes metal would burn.

He sets the bottle down on the nightstand next to the bed and slides the amulet off of his neck. Dean cradles the amulet in his hands. It's icy to the touch and face etched into the gold looks angry instead of it's normal calm. He clenches the necklace in his hand and flings it across the room where it hits the wall with a clunk. His hand scrubs over his face, wiping away the tears before they fall. 

"Fuck," Dean mumbles under his breath, slamming his fist into the mattress. It's Christmas Eve, he's gotta call Sam.

The phone in his hand shakes and he can already feel the his hands turning clammy. Dean presses a button on the side of his phone and the screen lights up, showing the menu page and picture of Sam on his sixteenth birthday. That day had been special, John was gone - as usual - but Dean took Sam to a movie and dinner at this organic food place he'd been eying since entering town. Dean remembers that the food had tasty like dirt but it was worth the happiness reflected on Sam's face. Dean had taken a picture to remember.

Dean dials Sam's phone number and hovers his thumb over the call button. He struggles with himself for a few seconds before mentally saying, _fuck it_ , and hitting call. He holds the phone up to his ear and waits, tapping his foot nervously against the top of the comforter. He's ready to hang-up when Sam answers the phone voice hesitant and surprised.

"Dean?"

"Hey Sammy," Dean says softly, his lips twitching up into a smile for the first time in... well three months.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, I'm good, how - how are you? How's Stanford?" Dean asks, cursing the tremor in his voice. A tear slides down his cheek and he hastily wipes it away.

"I'm good and Stanford is pretty cool," Sam replies and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm glad. I'm - I'm sorry I haven't called, I've been meaning to, you probably thought I abandoned you or something it's just...

Sam cuts him off, "It was hard on you, I know. Its been hard on me too."

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"It's okay, it's good to hear your voice. I miss you."

Dean smiles at that, "I miss you too, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam replies with a chuckle and Dean laughs and it feel nice.

"Merry Christmas, Sam. I'm sorry I'm not there. "

"It's alright, it's nice to talk to you. Merry Christmas, Dean."

"I'll call you in a few days okay?" Dean asks, hoping that is okay. Now that he's passed over this roadblock, he wants to be able to talk to Sam more. He wants to hear about his life.

"Yeah, call me."

There's a pause and now is usually where Dean hangs-up but... there's something else he needs to say, something he doesn't say often enough. 

"I love you, Sam."

"Love you too, Dean."

"Stay out of trouble okay?"

"Okay, I'll try. Bye Dean."

"Bye Sammy."

The call ends with a click and Dean tosses the phone across the bed, covering his face in his hands and crying, actually crying.

When the tears subside, he gets out of the bed and crosses the room to where the amulet fell. Bending down he picks it up with a slight smile and slides it back on over his head where it falls against his chest, returning to it's rightful place.


End file.
